


Like Glass

by Ace_Of_Fleurons



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Angst and Feels, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Flash Fic, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, Romantic Fluff, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 10:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18602713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ace_Of_Fleurons/pseuds/Ace_Of_Fleurons
Summary: Even after Chizuru and Sannan make it to Europe, the place where the first furies supposedly originated, the latter still doubts if they will be able to find a cure in time. Bit by bit, he fragments like broken glass. But will her faith in him do the same?





	Like Glass

He knew before anyone had the chance tell him, to spare him the shock of grief as he traced his hand over the cracked porcelain on his skin. He knew as he offered Heisuke the same serum that made him as fragile as the glass that contained it. He knew as he reeled, sweating, on the tatami mats in his room, throwing off his glasses off in vain hope that it would dispel the tempting, blood-colored tinge that dyed his sight. He knew he was broken.

But she didn’t.

Chizuru had stood in front of him, defiantly struggling between two sides of a war that he created. She trusted him, she loved him, and he reciprocated whole-heartedly. This was the very reason why he made her hate him, at least for a little bit. After all, it wouldn’t be a very convincing front if she had accompanied him hand-in-hand into the lion’s den. She forgave him for that, that at the very least he knew.

But did she forgive him for breaking?

Sannan sat at the edge of the Western-style bed, hands unevenly clutching the satin sheets. His hair gently waved in front of his face, unrestricted from the glasses that now sat unused on the nightstand. A part of him wanted to get up, to tidy up his tousled and unsightly appearance before his wife could open her eyes only to be greeted with such a sight. The other part urged him to wait, to breathe for what he knew could very well be the last time, and to enjoy the peace of the morning before the sun rose. This side won the battle.

Sannan ran his left hand through his hair, shifting it out of his eyes and allowing them to clearly see the scars running along the length of his veins. A couple months before, he could comfortably raise his arm without fear that the falling kimono sleeve would reveal his affliction. Now even the slightest reach could uncover the damage. Sighing, he lowered his arm and involuntarily slumped over his knees.

“Keisuke?”

Turning around, Sannan watched as Chizuru rolled over in her sleep, fluttering open her eyes in the darkness. It would take a moment for her eyes to adjust, and before they could he snuck in closer to plant a kiss on her forehead. The first thing she saw as the gloom cleared was his smile.

“Good morning, dear,” he murmured, leaning in so close that their noses touched. “Did you sleep well?”

The night outside bled scarlet with the rising sun, gradually painting her with its light. “I did,” responded she with a sleepy smile. But her expression slowly fell as the fog in her mind cleared.

She didn’t even need to say anything. “The nightmares came again.”

Chizuru hesitated, tempting the hope that she could fool and reassure him that she was unburdened by these nightly terrors. When she met the eyes of her beloved, urging her honest heart with the slightest furrow of his brow, she extinguished this wish with a nod. “Did I wake you?”

“Not at all.” Sannan gave her another peck on the head before sitting up straight. No matter how much his pride fought it, he felt guilt for putting her through the trauma that acted as the tainted seeds from which her afflictions sprouted. He turned and stared back at the wall. “It was a peaceful night.”

He heard the sheets rustle as Chizuru inched her way across the bed, using her hands to guide her way in the dim light until they finally found him. Gently, they clutched his kimono and infected him with their warmth. Despite his best efforts, Sannan failed to suppress a shiver.

“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” Her words, warm and quiet, mingled with the fibers of his kimono.

Sannan folded his hands inside his sleeves. “We haven’t made much progress with finding a cure,” he observed. His fingers absentmindedly fluttered over his wrist. Slowly, as to give him the time to see her hand approach, she followed their traces.

“These things take time, trial, and error,” she reminded him, tracing the porcelain veins up to his palm and looking into his eyes when their fingers interlocked. The brilliance of her smile blinded him temporarily in the quickly-fading darkness of their room. “Have a little faith.”

Even without his glasses, Sannan could see the determination beaming behind her irises, the passion that urged her to continue to follow him through the dark and twisted path he chose. Those eyes were the same ones that looked at him back in Edo, when she would insist to him that he was needed. This same loyalty seemed to illuminate her entire being when she unwaveringly defended him from his comrades against crimes that both of them fully knew weren’t outside of his capabilities. And, when he visited her every day in that cursed palace, feigning betrayal, her determination glowed more brilliantly than the moon and all the stars combined.

Chizuru’s grip tightened around his fingers. She didn’t care if he was broken. He was not some object to throw away the minute he cracked, nor a memory in the back of her mind that would be forgotten the minute his body crumbled to ash. Although his deepest, ugliest fears protested otherwise, he knew he was not a monster being carefully watched until he lost himself, only to be slaughtered in return. He was her beloved, and she was his.

Keeping her gaze interwoven with his, Sannan gradually rose her hand to his lips and pressed them against her knuckles. He could feel every muscle, previously tensed with worry and anxiety, melt away at his touch. He could feel her pulse from underneath his fingers slow to a calm flutter, and once more pick up into a roaring waltz when he leaned in to kiss her forehead. He could feel his own beat in perfect harmony as he whispered into her hair, illuminated by the rising sun that poured over them the sweet dew of a new morning.

“My dear, with you I have all the faith in the world.”

 


End file.
